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mother daughter poem

diz de épocas velhas boas
olhe para fora em cima das estrelas, meu amor
porque o faça sempre carrinho que tirita lá
eu não pray para a paz
a agonia de ter demasiado poder
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
existir da cisne
eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe
abaixo do helm do guerreiro
prazeres mid e palácios embora nós podemos vaguear
com alegria e maravilha
a neve sussurra sobre mim

 



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